


In Which a Crucial Conversation Occurs Much Earlier

by jacksparrow589



Series: In Which Things Change [7]
Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Season/Series 03, it's almost like talking helps move things along, there will be a healthy amount of fluff in due time, will touch a bit on Ka'kwet's escape and the aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksparrow589/pseuds/jacksparrow589
Summary: "You ran off after a crying girl without so much as a word to me!" Winifred radiated quiet fury. "It was as though I didn't exist!""I didn't think I needed permission to comfort a friend!" Gilbert shot back.Winifred tossed her head impatiently. "You didn't need permission, but would you justthinkfor a moment how it looks for you to be running after someone—after a girl who you claim is merely a friend—to comfort her when she runs away upset?!"-------------For all those times you yelled "OH MY GOD IF YOU JUST TALKED IT WOULD SOLVE THIS SO MUCH FASTER" during season 3. One conversation, in particular, has effects that ripple through the rest.
Relationships: Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Delphine Lacroix & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Josie Pye & Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Matthew Cuthbert & Anne Shirley
Series: In Which Things Change [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672138
Comments: 147
Kudos: 229





	1. In Which Winifred Gets Her Due

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gather 'round, gather 'round: It's another Inflection Points story because I can't stay away!
> 
> Technically, this story is a continuation of my [original 3x06 Inflection Point,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23048017/chapters/55153768) but you do not need to have read that for this to make sense.
> 
> Working titles for this story include: "In Which Gilbert Doesn't Entirely Lack Emotional Awareness", "In Which Gilbert and Winifred Aren't Fucking Lobotomized For Plot Convenience", and "In Which Season 3 is Less of a CW Drama".
> 
> And yes, Covalent Bonds will continue, but the next few chapters, though mostly short, are just kinda heavy, and I don't want to put them out right now.

Gilbert was ruing the confidence with which he'd said that the pram would absolutely fit on the back of the cart. Of course there was rope in the barn to tie it in place if they had to leave the back open, but he'd realize that only after his nerves calmed after introducing the Roses to Bash and Dellie. For now, he was stuck putting up with a disagreeable cart and pram, and a Bash whose spirits were high enough that he hadn't stopped teasing Gilbert about Winifred for the past two days.

"Bottles… Nappies… Pram… If Uncle Gilbert ever gets it loaded into the buggy."

Gilbert tried not to roll his eyes at Bash's smile. "It is _going_ to fit," he grumbled through gritted teeth, half as a rebuke to Bash, and half as a threat to the pram and cart. He stopped for a moment and turned to Bash. "I'll drop you off at the fair before I head to Bright River."

"Unless you want Dellie and me to come with you," Bash offered casually, though Gilbert knew Bash was only playing calm. "What do the courtship rules say about introducing your black family?"

Gilbert was back to his frustrations with the pram, if only so they'd cover his frustrations with how big of a thing Bash was making this outing with the Roses seem. It was just a day at the fair! "One variable at a time," he retorted sharply.

"You alright? You seem… tense." For all his teasing, Bash's concern was genuine enough: he truly wanted things to go well for Gilbert, no matter how much he teased.

"I'm not tense!" Gilbert sighed inwardly. Snapping at Bash certainly wasn't helping his case. "I'm just going to enjoy the day. What do I have to offer as a suitor anyway? I'm an orphan. My home life is… complicated—"

"You can't cook," Bash added mockingly. When Gilbert glared at him, he said mock-innocently, "I'm sorry; I thought we were listing things."

Well, if nothing else went right today, at least the pram had finally decided to fit. They climbed up onto the cart and set off as Gilbert tried to set his mind at ease. It was just going to be a nice, uncomplicated day at the fair. If anything came of it, he'd deal with it then.

* * *

Gilbert hadn't expected Winifred to understand exactly why it was that he'd gone after Anne, but he certainly hadn't expected to be led away from the Cuthberts, Bash, and Winnie's parents (all of whom looked a little oddly at Gilbert when he returned) with barely concealed frustration and berated, either.

"You ran off after a crying girl without so much as a word to me!" Winifred radiated quiet fury. "It was as though I didn't exist!"

"I didn't think I needed permission to comfort a friend!" Gilbert shot back.

Winifred tossed her head impatiently. "You didn't need permission, but would you just _think_ for a moment how it looks for you to be running after someone—after a girl who you claim is merely a friend—to comfort her when she runs away upset?!"

She hadn't meant to, but she'd struck a nerve. "It meant something to her! She made that cake to honor Mary!"

"Then why wouldn't you send Bash after her, hmm? Or let one of the Cuthberts see to her? Or at least apologize to me when you returned?" Winnie sighed. "Gilbert, I don't think you recognize the position you've put yourself in. It's certainly clear you don't understand the one you've put me in. So, I ask you: what is it you feel for me?"

Gilbert blinked in disbelief. "You're... asking me to declare myself?"

"I am asking you to not avoid this one question, and tell me how you feel!" Winifred insisted. 

Gilbert tried to meet Winnie's now positively glacial gaze, and was only sporadically able to succeed. "I... enjoy spending time with you."

Winifred crossed her arms. "As friends or as something more? This isn't complicated!"

Gilbert shook his head. "It is, because I don't know yet!"

Winnie inhaled sharply but otherwise didn't display further reaction. "But you know," she asked, her voice low and already hurt, "how you feel about Anne?" When Gilbert met her eyes but wouldn't speak, she sighed. "If it helps you say something, I truly hope that the answer to that question is yes."

"I know how I feel about her," Gilbert confirmed. "I don't know how she feels about me."

"And you haven't spoken with her about this because...?" Winifred was so flummoxed that she forgot her anger for a moment.

Gilbert sighed. "Every time I think we might be able to, it comes out wrong, or she yells at me, or she runs away. And then the one time it seemed like she might not… I ran away, too."

Though Gilbert rarely completely lost that air of maturity relative to his classmates, Winifred was very quickly realizing how very _young_ Gilbert still was in some ways. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "How long did you intend to continue this?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know!" Realizing how that sounded, Gilbert stammered "I mean… I wanted to… I just… We never discussed…"

"So that wasn't just bashfulness when my father inquired as to your intentions," Winifred murmured. The pieces were clearly coming together for her.

In much the same tone, Gilbert offered, "And that's why you told him off."

They were both silent for a moment, before Winifred, in a voice so quiet it was just above a whisper, said, "Well, thankfully, this can be dismissed as nothing beyond a short flirtation." She managed a half-smile. "An amusing diversion. That does make it easier."

Gilbert shook his head. "I'm sorry, Wi—Miss Rose. I shouldn't have ever… I shouldn't have asked you here. Not without being honest, anyway."

"No need to drop to complete formality. Plenty of people are on familiar enough terms to address each other by name without being romantically involved," Winifred said airily.

Gilbert let out a somewhat pained chuckle. "I deserve that."

Winifred's laugh was only a little less hurt. "Yes, well, trust that I've learned not to assume that the rules of courtship are so cut-and-dried for everyone." Her smile grew a little. "If I may offer a little unsolicited advice, from one friend to another: just because a conversation is difficult does not mean it should not be had. Some are best over tea, and some—" She smirked. "—are best during a dance."

"Understood on both counts." Gilbert's smile was rueful. "Well, if we're parting as friends…" He held out his hand. "Thank you for the advice, and for being more gracious about this than I might deserve."

Winifred took it briefly. "I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, Gilbert, be they academic, romantic, or otherwise." She released Gilbert's hand.

"And the same to you," Gilbert told her sincerely.

Winifred strolled away. Gilbert waited a moment, then, with a heavy breath, decided to go look first for Bash, then for Anne.

He'd just spotted Bash when exclamations got his attention, and he looked around to see a hot air balloon ascending, and over one side, unmistakably brilliant red hair. It seemed he would be waiting a while to talk with Anne, but at least that would buy enough time for Bash to get it all out of his system. With a sigh, Gilbert set off.

* * *

It had taken a half hour for Bash to get all of his gleeful celebration at being _right_ out of his system. Gilbert had spent a solid half of it holding Dellie and whispering into her ear that her father might be Gilbert's brother, but there were some things Gilbert would never understand about him, and this was one of them.

He would have preferred not to tell Bash the whole story, but there really hadn't been any other way to explain it. (Not that he'd really had to; Bash had been perfectly able to fill in what had happened, but he insisted on Gilbert telling him about it anyway.) To Bash's credit, he was sympathetic and understanding. His advice to Gilbert had never been anything but genuinely meant, and while it had taken Gilbert a little too long to employ it, there had been no getting around the day being a bit of a mess once it had started.

But of course, at the end of it, he couldn't resist gloating.

"…Really, though, Blythe, it's so obvious that it took Winifred all of ten seconds to figure it out. If Dellie could talk, I'd bet anything she'd tell you the same thing." He grew pensive. "It's still a bit of a mystery to me how Anne doesn't see it."

_Just because a conversation is difficult does not mean it should not be had…_ Gilbert shook his head. "Well, after today, I wouldn't blame her for being confused," he mumbled.

Bash took Dellie back from him. "After today, no, but all the days before…" He sighed. "I do not envy being a teenager, though I'd like to think I had more common sense than either of you at your age."

"I've got plenty of common sense!" Gilbert protested. "I practically had to raise myself."

"Could have fooled me." Bash grinned, but it flickered back to a thoughtful frown pretty quickly. "Both of you had to learn some things far too fast. I suppose it only makes sense that you might be lagging behind in others."

All Gilbert could respond with was a decidedly sour look.

"So." Bash played with one of Dellie's hands as she held onto a finger. "What do you plan to do now?"

Gilbert sighed. "I don't know. I've made a mess of today already, and Anne… What if she doesn't… What if I've already…" He swallowed hard.

"You don't know until you try," Bash pointed out. "I made assumptions about Mary that I shouldn't have." He put his hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "You don't have to fix the world in a day, Blythe, but you shouldn't just sit around getting in your head about it and never doing anything until your only option is a hasty decision. That's the worst thing you can do for yourself."

"Thanks, Bash." Gilbert's tone wasn't bright, but he was being sincere. "Thankfully, I've at least got a little time to think." When Bash gave him a curious look, Gilbert told him about the hot air balloon.

Bash couldn't help a laugh. "I'd pay to see how the Cuthberts are coping with that."

_And I'd give anything to see Anne looking out over all of this right now._

Gilbert knew his face was giving away exactly what he thought of the idea of Anne grinning brilliantly with her hair blowing in the wind as she peered over the side of the basket, but Bash could hardly say anything about it that he hadn't before, and he was the only one around to do so.

Mercifully, Bash stayed quiet, save for a short barb about how Gilbert was unlikely to be anything other than green and shaking on the floor of the basket up in the balloon. Gilbert rolled his eyes and reminded Bash that while he didn't like heights, he hadn't been terribly prone to violent illness on the steamer unless the seas were incredibly rough.

"Still, my point about quite possibly finding less joy in it than you might think stands," Bash ribbed.

"I just prefer solid ground." Gilbert kicked at a pebble.

"That much is obvious," Bash snorted. He shifted Dellie in his arms as she drifted off to sleep. "You'll figure it out yet, Blythe. For now, go wander around and try to get out of your head just a little bit."

A determined look on his face, Gilbert nodded and set off.

* * *

He'd run into Charlie and Moody first. Moody, thankfully, hadn't seemed to have seen Gilbert with the Roses earlier. Gilbert knew he'd seen Charlie, but Charlie had been looking around, himself, and it didn't seem that Winifred's presence (or at the very least, Gilbert's presence at her side) had registered with him, either.

After leaving his friends, Gilbert happened upon the Barrys. He talked with Mr. Barry for a bit about the offer of exporting some of their apples in the fall, but when Minnie May tugging at her father's sleeve could be ignored no longer, Gilbert found himself talking with Diana.

"Who were you accompanying earlier? They didn't look like anyone from Avonlea or Carmody." Diana's tone wasn't entirely curiosity; there was an undercurrent of threat to it.

"The Roses are from Charlottetown," Gilbert answered evenly. "Winifred clerked for Dr. Ward while I was apprenticing there. I offered to show her and her family around the fair the last time I was in Charlottetown."

Diana crossed her arms. "And will she be making regular visits to Avonlea?"

Gilbert blinked. Diana was certainly being bold today. "No. This was just an enjoyable day at the fair." _And even that didn't go as planned._

"Hm." Diana seemed to relax. "And will they be staying for the barn dance?"

"I hadn't thought to ask." It was the honest truth, and for whatever reason, it seemed to amuse Diana. In any event, he suspected that whatever the case might have been before he and Winifred had had their conversation, it wasn't likely now. Winifred hadn't said in so many words that they'd be departing, but there were plenty of people happy enough to ferry fair-goers between the fairgrounds and Bright River for a small fare. He didn't feel particularly good about causing the Roses to incur costs, but it was always possible that something would have come up to force it. If nothing else, he could write Winifred later and offer to pay the expense.

"…suppose we'll see each other at the barn dance then," Diana was saying.

Gilbert hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "See you then," he agreed as Diana and her family took their leave. Once they were far enough away, he heaved a sigh. This wasn't the day he'd expected, but he could get through a few more hours, barring any new disaster.

_Best not tempt fate._ He decided to go wait where he said he'd meet up with Bash later. That much at least couldn't get him into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is, without a doubt, the one thing I'd change about season 3 if nothing else. (Though it'd probably have a butterfly effect on the rest of the season.) Winifred is initially presented as incredibly savvy and forward, choosing propriety when necessary, but definitely having a spark of rebelliousness, and her parents seem to understand this to some degree.
> 
> So why, readers, does a savvy, forward young lady who knows what she wants not call Gilbert out at all on abandoning her? Maybe she wouldn't have dragged him to the side immediately, but if she's supposed to think Gilbert is serious about courting her, whatever else he does or does not feel for her or she for him, it seems in her character to call him on it. She's not so naive as to believe that she'll necessarily have a true love match, but at the very least, she doesn't seem like she'd be okay with the guy she's with to be so clearly hung up on somebody else that he straight-up ditches her with no word when that someone else is in distress.
> 
> In IRL business, a happy Hanukkah to all celebrating readers and your loved ones!


	2. In Which the Fair Ends Both Differently and the Same

Anne couldn't believe it. It was the dance practice all over again, even if she was in a different position. She stood to Charlie's right, with Diana on his left. Ruby stood opposite Charlie, with Jerry to her right (putting him opposite a gleeful Diana) and Gilbert to her left, opposite Anne.

She hadn't seen Winifred or her parents since the disastrous cake judging. They were from Charlottetown, so perhaps they'd departed early? It was mostly Avonlea and Carmody townsfolk remaining at this point, but Gilbert was about the last person she wanted to see right now, let alone dance with. Then again, she supposed she wasn't really dancing with him, not unless he repeated his "mistake"—she didn't know why she was bothering to lie to herself about how intentional it had been, but she was—from the classroom.

It was even more of a lie to tell herself she didn't want that very much, but it was the lie she was most determined to believe, or she'd never be brave enough to put her hand in his as the beginning notes of the Dashing White Sergeant sounded.

She glanced at him only once or twice as they circled, but she couldn't help looking up as he released her hand. She didn't know how she made it through the next steps of the dance. Her eyes couldn't leave Gilbert's for long after that; not while she turned with Charlie and then Gilbert with Ruby, not as they went through the following reel, and certainly not as they stepped forward to meet once in the middle. Anne even caught him glancing back at her (because, as she was acutely aware, she was glancing back at him) as she ducked under his arm and moved to her new set.

She was opposite Mr. Lynde this time, and while she normally would have smiled watching him and Mrs. Lynde set and turn while gazing into each other's eyes in the most romantical way—whatever else one thought about the Lyndes, you couldn't deny they were very much in love, as the faces pulled by one of Jerry's brothers, caught in their line opposite Diana, could attest to—instead, her eyes somehow managed to find Gilbert's again, and it was clear he'd been looking for her, as well.

She barely heard Mrs. Lynde's congratulations on a well-executed dance when they finished, her mind racing as impulses to look around for Gilbert or to run and hide fought for control over her next movements.

Naturally, the decision was made for her in one of the worst possible ways when Charlie tapped her shoulder.

"Anne, you look a little… overexerted. Can I get some lemonade for you?"

If she hadn't been blushing before she was now. "No, thank you. I'm just going to step outside for some air." Anne turned to make her way to the door, brushing past Diana, who had clearly been listening.

Charlie, of course, kept up with her easily. "Should I accompany you?"

Anne shook her head. "No, I'll be fine."

"Oh." To his credit, Charlie didn't continue to follow her. Anne knew she should feel grateful, but right now, she just needed to escape.

She sighed as the cool night air hit her face, but her savoring of the refreshing breeze was cut short a few minutes later when Josie barreled back through the door, nearly colliding with her.

"Josie?" Anne put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I'm _fine,_ " Josie insisted. She was trying to sound forceful, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.

"Are you sure? You… your hair's out of place, and the back of your dress…" Anne brushed some splinters from Josie's shoulders. It didn't escape her notice that Josie looked either ready to cry, or as if she had already, and it definitely didn't escape Anne's notice that Josie was glancing back nervously in the direction she'd come.

As Josie disappeared back inside, the reason for her uncharacteristic distress became clear: Billy Andrews appeared, sauntering back toward the barn. Anne frowned and stepped into his path. "I don't know what you did to Josie, but you shouldn't have done it."

Billy smirked. "Maybe you should figure out what you're missing out on before you judge."

Anne stepped back into the doorway as Billy advanced, holding her breath as he neared. But after a look over Anne's shoulder, Billy merely strode back in without saying anything else.

Whirling around, Anne found Gilbert standing an arm's length away. She staggered backward a step, but managed to catch herself.

"Diana said you needed some air. Are you alright?"

Anne had thought for sure he'd make some joke about her lack of grace, but if anything, Gilbert still looked as apprehensive (and as intense) as he had during the Dashing White Sergeant. Anne cleared her throat. "Um, yes, I'm fine. I was just… a little warm." When Gilbert didn't reply, she summoned her courage to ask, "So, did Wi—did the Roses leave already?"

"Ah… yes." Gilbert rubbed the back of his neck, clearly ashamed. "Winifred was… under the impression that we, um…" He sighed. "She and I weren't on the same page…"

Anne's eyes lit up first with surprise, then just for a split second with mischief, but she managed to school her expression to understanding with just a bit of pity. In amongst all that, all she could manage to say was, "I see…"

With a wry half-smile, Gilbert shrugged. "Well, since I'm not going to Dr. Ward's anymore, at least it's a clean break."

Now Anne's expression was entirely one of sympathy. "Still, it's—it's not nice," she offered. After another few quiet, shallow breaths during which she tried to ignore just how lightheaded she was feeling, she all but whispered, "It's Winifred's loss."

Gilbert only just managed to keep from gaping. He licked his lips nervously before musing quietly, "Is it as much of a loss if the person you care for doesn't feel the same way for you?"

It was Anne's turn to keep from gaping. Before she could think of what to say, however, Mr. Pye swept out the door, hauling Josie by the wrist as Mrs. Pye followed closely behind, murmuring to her husband that he was causing a scene as he hissed back that their _daughter_ had caused a scene. Anne frowned. Billy had clearly said something. He'd had accosted Anne in defense of Prissy's reputation three years ago, but he was willing to ruin Josie's now? She wanted to be surprised, but that she knew she couldn't be only served to bolster her anger.

"It's not fair," she murmured.

"No, it's not," Gilbert agreed.

Anne had to choke back the urge to cry. Nothing could be done about it tonight; that much, she knew. Instead, she managed to heave a shaking sigh.

"You should come back inside," Gilbert said quietly. As an afterthought, he offered, "Or I can fetch Matthew or Marilla if you'd like."

Anne couldn't trust her voice. She swallowed and shuffled back fully into the barn, only vaguely noticing that Gilbert started extending a hand as if to take her elbow and lead her back in before thinking the better of it and drawing back. She nodded when Gilbert asked if she wanted a glass of lemonade, managing to add a whispered "thank you" that put small smiles on both of their faces.

No sooner had Gilbert gone than Charlie reappeared. Before he could say anything, however, Diana, Ruby, and Tillie swooped in, wanting to know what had happened (and Ruby wanting Anne to know that Moody had waved at her before the whole commotion about Josie). Anne told them briefly what she'd seen of Josie, though she couldn't quite bring herself to speak of Billy's taunt to her (which she wasn't entirely sure hadn't been a threat on some level, the same as when he'd confronted her that horrible morning). Not that that mattered; Josie was the one who had been hurt.

"But she had to know what was going to happen when she went outside to meet him without a chaperon!" Tillie reasoned.

"Even Josie wouldn't have gone if she'd known," countered Diana. "It's one thing to kiss when you both want to…" She sighed heavily, and the other three girls did, as well.

The next dance was called, and Anne's friends turned to leave. Diana, noticing Anne wasn't with them, doubled back. "Anne, aren't you coming?"

Anne shook her head, still quiet. "After that… I think I'm done for the night. You go and have fun." She offered a watery smile.

Diana nodded grimly and pressed her hand before rejoining Ruby and Tillie, grabbing Charlie's elbow and pulling him with her as she went when she noticed he was headed back toward Anne. Anne almost had to laugh at Diana brooking no protest from him even though she barely came up to his shoulder.

A glass of lemonade appeared in front of Anne, and she took it gingerly. "I didn't want to interrupt," Gilbert explained. He stood next to Anne, but far enough away that they couldn't be misconstrued as a potential pair for a dance. With a small smile, he murmured, "Diana seems to want to keep Charlie busy."

Anne finished a few sips of lemonade and couldn't help returning the smile. "When Diana puts her mind to a thing, it gets done." She took another sip before adding, "She's just a little quieter about it than me most of the time."

Gilbert couldn't help a surprised laugh. "I've noticed." His lips settled into a genuine grin as he continued, "Friends usually have at least one trait in common, even if it isn't immediately obvious."

Anne was quiet for a long moment, wondering what she could possibly say to that. Jokes about their shared bookishness and the stubbornness they could both display, or how someone as quiet as Gilbert usually was could possibly be friends with someone as effervescent as Anne all occurred, but none of them seemed right. Thankfully, Gilbert didn't seem to be expecting an answer, instead seeming content to observe the dancing. Anne followed suit, only to tilt her head when she noticed, "Is that Matthew dancing with Miss Stacy?"

Gilbert let out a short laugh, trying not to look too amused. "Yeah, it is. Bash'll be sorry he missed this." At Anne's curious look, he explained, "Dellie was really starting to fuss. I figured I could get home with anyone here."

"I'm sure Matthew and Marilla will take you; we are neighbors, after all," Anne said carefully. "Though if you want to stay longer, I think Matthew might be looking for an excuse to leave after this. Mrs. Lynde looks fit to be tied, and I don't think Miss Stacy would listen to her."

Gilbert shook his head. "I hesitate to say that I've had a bit of a day given that I didn't enter any contests or go up in a hot air balloon, but I wouldn't complain about getting some extra rest at least." He turned to look at Anne. "Tell me about the balloon ride on the way back?"

Anne beamed and nodded.

* * *

Anne had been true to her word and had described the balloon ride in vivid detail on the way home. Matthew had, as expected, remained quiet, though the few times he'd turned had revealed a contented smile. All Marilla would say about it (while drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders) was that it had been a "singular experience", which had Anne and Gilbert exchanging grins.

Gilbert had said he'd walk home from Green Gables, though the route home was mostly equidistant between the two houses and Matthew had happily offered to drop him off. Gilbert had said he wouldn't put them to any trouble, and anyway, a nice night walk would help him wind down. If the Cuthberts found the remark curious or revealing in any way, they said nothing about it, and, as he was very carefully not looking at Anne, Gilbert didn't see that she'd started chewing on her lip.

When they reached Green Gables, Gilbert was quick to hop off the cart and offer to help Matthew get everything put away. Matthew had waved him off, murmuring something about how it was soothing. Marilla merely tutted about how he was such a solitary creature as he helped her down from the cart.

Still mulling the day's events, Anne waited for a moment before hopping off the back of the cart. As she did, she couldn't help noticing that it seemed like Gilbert once again stopped just short of offering his hand. It would be silly for him to do so, of course.

But that didn't mean that she wouldn't take it in a heartbeat if he did.

"Ah—um… good night," Anne mumbled finally.

Gilbert's answering "good night" came out just above a whisper. He cleared his throat. "See you tomorrow."

Anne nodded. "Tomorrow… Good night. Again." She dashed off to join Marilla on her walk up to the house.

If Matthew had noticed the exchange, he gave no indication, and Gilbert managed not to heave a sigh until he was well outside of the fence, just in case. It wasn't as though he hadn't needed the walk before, but he certainly did now more than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're up to 2 "almost holding hands" moments and a "the couple has a moment and then goes all shy" moment. I swear, if I ever switch pennames entirely, you'll all still know it's me.
> 
> Comments are, as usual, much appreciated. I think I've calmed down from last chapter now that things are moving in a more Shirbert direction. They'll get there. Eventually. After they really get this talking thing down. As they should have. But I'm done ranting about that. Probably.


	3. In Which Anne is Made to Think Through Her Decision More Carefully

Gilbert had considered trying to time his walk to the newspaper meeting to coincide with Anne's, but there had been too much that had needed doing around the property.

He wasn't sure whether he was covering it well enough or if Bash was just preoccupied, but there was no mention of how eager he was to leave when he finally did. Oh his brisk walk, he rehearsed his pitch for Anne to write about her hot air balloon ride. The way she'd described it was too good not to put to paper.

His plans were forestalled by the heated discussion Anne was in the middle of when he arrived.

"Josie's always looking for attention; I say let her have it!" Jane tossed her head. "You remember that kissing game she made us play?"

"She didn't really make us. We had the choice not to," Diana pointed out.

Tillie tilted her head before hedging, "Well, Josie had the choice not to go outside and meet Billy…"

"He didn't just—!" Anne shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "You didn't see Josie when she came in. She was distraught. Her hair was messy, her back was… it looked like she'd been pushed up against the barn." More quietly, she finished, "Like she didn't want to be there."

Ruby crossed her own arms, looking uncomfortable. All the girls looked uncomfortable, if only for a moment.

"Someone has to say something!" Anne insisted.

"What's there to say?" Moody called from across the classroom. "Josie made a mistake. It's unfortunate, but… We all know Billy. What was Josie expecting?"

"So you're saying it's okay for Billy to do what he did, then?" Gilbert asked.

Moody had the grace to look ashamed. "No, but… It's just…"

Anne, unable to keep quiet, spoke again. "What's the newspaper for if not to… to bring new ideas? To challenge what we might think? To get us to see the world a different way?"

"You clearly don't have to change _your_ mind," Jane murmured. When Anne glared at her, she returned the look, with an odd hint of pity. "Why do you even care? Josie's never defended you. If it was you instead of her…" She trailed off as Diana fixed her with a glare, Ruby with a shocked stare, and Gilbert with something somewhere in between, but none of that—nor the fact that she hadn't intended to finish her sentence—mattered, because Anne had taken off. She hadn't grabbed her things, so she'd be back, but it didn't feel right to let her go alone.

The students who were paying attention were mostly looking at Diana, who was gazing after Anne, but it was Gilbert who followed Anne out of the schoolhouse.

She hadn't gone far; just a little way up the path in the direction Miss Stacy usually arrived from.

Gilbert stopped a full arm's length back at first, but took another step forward when Anne didn't turn to face him, even though she had to have heard him walk up. "Anne…"

Anne wheeled around to face him, shocked, surprised, and maybe a little scared. Gilbert had been reaching out for her shoulder, but he pulled back.

A very long moment and several shaky breaths later, Anne spoke. "Do you… you remember the morning… that you came back to school after returning from Alberta? The morning we met?"

Gilbert nodded, his heart sinking.

"I've thought a lot since then… if you hadn't been shown up when you did…" Anne was refusing to let any tears fall, but she had to stop and swallow before she could go on. "When Billy was walking toward me last night, I was back in those woods. And while I don't think…" She sighed. "I've been lucky. I've never had a lot, but… but that part of my reputation, at least… But even if—if that wasn't the case… It's not Josie's fault. And it's not fair that she's taking the blame. Mrs. Hammond used to tell me all the time that men can't control themselves, but I don't think it's _can't;_ I think it's _don't want to_ , otherwise it wouldn't happen only in secret. But it's women who pay the price. And when we speak out about it, we're told that this is the way it has to be." Anne shook her head. "It's not right. We all whisper to ourselves and each other that it's not right, but nothing ever changes because nobody ever actually _talks_ about it. _Someone_ has to. _I_ want to."

"I think you should," Gilbert told her. "I'm sure Miss Stacy wasn't imagining any of this when she started the newspaper, but I can't imagine she wouldn't support addressing this in some way."

Anne didn't look entirely convinced, but she started shuffling back to the schoolhouse.

* * *

Miss Stacy sighed. "It's not that this doesn't warrant addressing, Anne; it's just that it must be done _extremely_ carefully, and, if Josie's… predicament is alluded to in even the smallest way, it must be with her consent. This isn't going to be an overnight process."

"But that's—! People want it to go away! The longer it takes the more… the more people are going to ask why it matters! And the longer they can make Josie feel like… like it's her fault." Anne grabbed her left arm with her right hand.

Miss Stacy stood and put her hands on Anne's shoulders. "You know that I don't want that, either. But Josie may need some convincing. I know that… neither of you is the other's favorite person, but I do think that if anyone can make the case, it's you."

Anne almost had to laugh at Miss Stacy barely being able to be diplomatic about any kind of friendship between Anne and Josie being tenuous at best. Instead, she sighed inwardly at the thought of fighting a battle for Josie against Josie. She wouldn't want Anne's help or sympathy, and if the shoe were on the other foot (or rather, on Anne's), Josie would never do the same.

That wasn't the point, though, she had to remind herself as she went to go grab her hat, sweater, and basket.

"Anne? Where are you going?" Diana wanted to know.

"To talk to Josie," Anne sighed.

* * *

Anne stood on the doorstep of the Pye house for several minutes before raising her hand to knock. Josie was sure to say no, so why had she even bothered to come here?

_Because sometimes, there was reason to hope._

The Pyes' maid answered, and, when asked who was calling for Josie, Anne thought for a moment before replying, "Someone who just wants to help."

When an extremely unimpressed Josie appeared, Anne was momentarily struck silent, but soon enough, it all came out in a rush. "I want to write an article. Before you say no, it's not going to mention you or what happened at the fair; it's going to be about the respect that women deserve and aren't granted—"

"No." Josie crossed her arms. "Come on, Anne: did you really think I'd say yes? Everyone's going to know it's about me anyway and they'll just keep on dragging my name even more through the mud. Things won't change!"

"They've changed before," Anne reminded her. "Nobody can undo what Billy did at the fair, but we can start bringing out into the open just how many people know it's not right."

Josie gave a harsh laugh. "So, just you then?"

Anne shook her head. "No! Most of the class... they agreed it wasn't right."

"Who didn't?" Josie wanted to know. "Jane, I'm sure, but who else?"

"Those who didn't agree didn't really disagree, either—not in the end," Anne hedged. "Josie, please, just think about it."

Josie scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You want to know what I _think?_ I think you want me to suffer a little more. You're happy that you've finally got someone to pity, and that that someone is me."

It was Anne's turn to make a disbelieving noise. "You think I wouldn't do this if it was Ruby or Diana or Jane or Tillie? Or that I don't wish I could go back and undo what my gossip did to Prissy when I first arrived?" When Josie didn't reply, Anne continued, "I know you wouldn't do the same for me. I don't expect gratitude or anything else from you, but if anyone tries to make your life worse because of this, I will step in."

"You've hardly got the social capital to do that. Your own reputation would suffer." ( _Nothing that hasn't happened before,_ Anne couldn't help thinking.) More quietly, Josie clarified, "Billy's wouldn't."

Anne hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Josie, Billy threatened to ruin my reputation _twice._ The first time was after I accidentally ruined Prissy's. The second was last night after I defended you."

"But he doesn't even like you!" Josie blurted.

"Liking someone... isn't necessary to ruin their reputation like that," Anne murmured.

Josie tilted her head. "You sound like you know. Have you... Has anyone...?"

Anne shook her head, feeling simultaneous twinges of guilt and annoyance as Josie's face fell. "No, but, as you have so keenly pointed out several times, growing up in an orphanage doesn't shelter you from what goes on in the world." She felt bad for sounding quite so waspish about it, but Josie taking comfort in trying to reposition herself above Anne again couldn't not rankle at least a little.

Josie bit her lip. Then, closing the door behind her, she stepped outside, pulling Anne off the porch with her and looking around to make sure nobody could hear. "You know that I agreed to go outside with him, right? That I wanted some of it?"

Anne nodded. "But that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to tell him when to stop. Think about it: if you went over to the Andrews' for tea, and Billy gave you a cup—yes, I know he wouldn't; imagine Jane or Prissy if it makes it easier—and you drank it because you wanted to, but that was all you wanted. And then he poured you another one even though you said you didn't want it. Or say you thought you did, but you realized you were full after he poured it. He doesn't have the right to pour it down your throat anyway, right?"

Josie shook her head. "No, but it's not the same."

"How?" Anne wanted to know.

Josie opened and closed her mouth several times before settling on, "It just is."

Anne thought for a moment. "Supposing you're right… isn't that what I'm trying to change?" She sighed. "If nobody bothers to try, then nothing changes." Josie remained silent, and Anne offered, "You can read the article when I've written it. If you don't want it to be printed, then it won't get printed. I won't mention you by name or even refer to… to what happened. I'll make any edits you want—within reason, anyway—"

"Anne!" Josie shook her head. "Write the article. I'll make my choice after I read it."

Anne nodded and started to turn to go.

"Anne?" Josie waited until Anne was facing her again. She seemed like she might be holding back tears as she asked, "Do you know why Billy didn't… follow through with you?"

"Honestly? I was lucky. G—someone happened to come by both times." Anne took a breath. "But you shouldn't have to be lucky." She knew that if Josie remembered the first day, she could probably piece together that it was Gilbert, and if she remembered the night before, she'd remember Anne and Gilbert talking as the Pyes had made their exit, but that wasn't the point. "Um, I'll try and get the article written tonight and come by with it tomorrow… if that's okay. I could give it to you at church, I suppose, but I'd rather…"

Josie rolled her eyes. "If you stop babbling, Anne, you can come by after lunch tomorrow."

Anne nodded. "I hope… I hope you'll be okay."

Josie returned the nod. "I should go back inside. Bye, Anne."

"Bye." Anne waved at Josie, and set off to write, her mind already brimming with possibility.

* * *

"I'm not sure whether I'm more afraid that people will understand, or that they won't," Josie sighed. She looked at Anne. "You said Miss Stacy approved this?"

"Yes, and it's my fourth draft," Anne informed her.

Josie turned back to the draft. "Respect… Equality in all things… You have some lofty ideas, Anne." She handed the draft back to her. "How can you think things like this when you know that this isn't how it is?"

"Progress doesn't just happen; it's made. It's made by people who know that things can be better. My life before Avonlea… it was pretty terrible. It's not perfect here, but even when everyone here is doing their worst, there's really only one person who's truly comparable to the worst I've seen elsewhere, and I think we both know who that is. It's not perfect, but from the day I arrived, my hopes for how I could be in the world have grown. It's a _wonderful_ feeling." Anne smiled dreamily.

"I think you're in for some disappointment when the article goes out, but I won't fight you on it."

Anne's smile faltered. She hadn't expected gratitude, but Josie seemed oddly more deflated. "Josie, if there's one thing I've learned from you, it's that no matter what others think of me, it's what I think of myself that matters most." She smiled wryly as Josie smirked. "I hope… that you feel the same way about yourself. And anyway—" Anne turned to leave the Pye property "—Avonlea accepted Miss Stacy. I think it's more open to change than you might imagine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're laughing uncomfortably right now because we've all seen 3x07 (and 3x08) and know that that isn't necessarily the case with everyone, hold onto that reaction.


	4. In Which There is Still Fallout From Angry Old Men

Anne shifted from foot to foot. She hadn't slept a wink the previous night, but she couldn't not be here; not with her name on the byline.

Diana nudged her and gave her an encouraging smile. Anne's answering smile wasn't as confident as either of them would like, but it was something.

Anne hadn't apprised her guardians of the exact nature of her article, so half her nerves were in anticipation of their reaction. She'd overheard Marilla tell Mrs. Lynde recently that _Anne's always got another way to surprise us, and we're never entirely sure what to make of it._ Things hadn't exactly been entirely smooth between herself and Marilla this year; that much was certain, but she might see the inspiration Anne had taken from watching her.

She was starting to relax after several people had taken the paper when there was a commotion: the minister stormed up to Tillie and attempted to grab the stack of papers from her. She took a step back, but kept a firm hold on them. The minister snatched one from Ruby and glanced it over, then stamped up to Miss Stacy. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I believe the headline says it all," Miss Stacy replied, looking just a little confused.

Anne nearly cheered, but Mr. Pye rounded on her, a paper crumpled in his fist. "You couldn't let the scandal go, could you? It's not enough that she brings this shame on herself, but you have to remind the town about it! You really are nothing better than—"

"I'll thank you not to finish that sentence, Mr. Pye," Marilla said sharply, stepping up next to Anne. "I haven't had the privilege of reading the full article, as your ranting interrupted me before I could finish it. However, the point of it does seem to be that Josie in fact deserves _better_ than to be bullied by a boy who then smears her reputation, and moreover, that all girls—and all women—do."

Anne's eyes darted to Josie, whose face was carefully blank. No, she shouldn't mention that Josie gave her blessing. However, there were names that she could give. "As stated at the bottom of the article, the Avonlea Gazette staff—" Mr. Pye snorted "—agreed to its publication and the Editor-in-Chief approved the final draft. Josie wasn't mentioned, and if she _had_ been, it would be to say that she did _not_ deserve what was done to her."

"It is regrettable, but she made a choice!" the minister tried to reason.

"So did Billy." Anne's jaw almost dropped. She hadn't expected Gilbert to speak. Mr. Pye hadn't, either; he was clearly unsure how to respond. Gilbert took a short breath and repeated, "All other things being equal, _Billy made a choice._ That's what this is about. None of us standing here condone his choice, and I'd like to think that my friends and I have been taught better, by Miss Stacy if nobody else. If we're going to say that there are consequences for choices, at the very least, Josie shouldn't be the only one facing them."

The minister looked taken aback. He turned to Miss Stacy. "This is _not_ the appropriate forum to discuss these issues."

"Outside after church? That's fair to say." Miss Stacy smiled politely and clasped her hands. "I'd be happy to attend a town meeting, where everyone can have their say. Perhaps my students should be present? It would be wonderful to get them involved in civic engagement; after all, these are issues that clearly affect them." The minister opened his mouth, but Miss Stacy continued, "However, I can see that our presence here has caused a bit of a stir, so we'll continue handing the newspaper out at the schoolhouse today, if some of you would be so kind as to spread the word?" A few adults—including the Cuthberts—nodded. "Good. It's settled then. Come along, everyone." She began to walk.

The students glanced at each other with varying degrees of shock, glee, and disappointment on their faces, but didn't take more than a few seconds to join Miss Stacy.

"Well done standing up to Josie's father," Diana murmured as she fell into step beside Anne. "You made it look easy."

Anne gave her a shaky smile. "I did? I was terrified," she admitted in a whisper. Everyone else was talking; she wouldn't be heard. "My hands are still shaking."

Diana briefly grabbed Anne's hand and squeezed before changing the subject just slightly. "I thought the minister was going to have an apoplexy when Miss Stacy pretended to misunderstand him!"

Anne had to laugh before musing thoughtfully, "I should have added to my article that sometimes women must seize respect by force… or maybe by cunning?"

"I'd call it sheer boldness, and you certainly have enough of that." Diana dimpled at Anne.

"Well, I won't argue that," Anne told her. "I hope it bodes well. For Queen's, I mean."

The girls fell into discussion for the rest of the walk about how Charlottetown was a bigger city, and perhaps Anne would find more like-minded people there. (Both of them frowned and fell silent for a moment at the reminder that Diana wouldn't be there.)

"Miss Stacy, did you really mean it when you said we should attend a town meeting on this?" Ruby wanted to know as they settled at the schoolhouse.

Before Miss Stacy could say anything, Charlie reminded her, "We've done it before. Sort of, anyway."

"The question was addressed to me, Charlie," Miss Stacy chided gently before addressing Ruby, "but yes, I did mean it, and Charlie is correct that this would not be your first foray into civic engagement."

"That was different: Anne had the idea, and all we had to do was walk in with potato light bulbs." Tillie thought for a moment. "I suppose Gilbert gave a speech, but he's older than the rest of us."

"Not enough for it to matter, though. And Anne spoke, too," Gilbert pointed out.

Moody replied, "Yeah, but she's _Anne._ I doubt any of us could do what she did without a lot of time to practice."

"The meeting wouldn't be tonight, Moody, and you won't need to make a speech," Miss Stacy assured him, adding, "though I hope you might think of what you would want to say if asked." She addressed the students as a group. "I know that it can be a little intimidating, but most of you will be going out into the world some way next year, and as young adults who will grow into people who will attend community meetings if nothing else, you need to be able to form and defend your own opinions. To be quite frank, I suspect that some of the adults will not want to hear what you have to say, and if you are called upon or volunteer to speak, they will do everything in their power to make you feel like you're insignificant, or that you don't know what you're doing. Perhaps you might not have all the answers, but how else are you expected to learn? That's why I allowed this article to be published and that's why, if there is a meeting, I encourage—but cannot expect—you to attend."

The students nodded their acknowledgment with varying degrees of enthusiasm and fear, but didn't discuss it further as a few people actually showed up to pick up papers, with another small group on their heels.

* * *

Most of the students hadn't stayed long—Diana had needed to depart fairly quickly, and the students had departed in twos and threes after, when it became clear that people weren't exactly showing up in droves. (Though a modest number had shown up, and a few had asked for multiple copies to give to neighbors.) After an hour, only Anne and Gilbert remained with Miss Stacy, who suggested that they leave a stack of newspapers outside secured with a rock so that they, too, could go home.

"Well, _that_ could have gone better," Anne groused as she and Gilbert made their way home. "Kicked off the premises for a commotion we didn't cause!" She sighed. "I'm just glad Miss Stacy was there to handle it in the end. Mr. Pye was about to get the wrong end of my temper. I can't imagine that would have ended well for me or the newspaper."

She'd thought Gilbert would at least smile at the self-deprecating statement, but he looked thoughtful, almost upset. He caught her curious look. "Did you notice that that the minister went directly for Tillie even though he had to pass Paul and Moody to do it?"

"He did," Anne agreed with a prompting tone. She wasn't entirely sure where Gilbert was taking this.

"It would be one thing if he'd passed them to come to you; your name was on the byline. Or if he'd gone to find Miss Stacy, it would have been reasonable. But he specifically went for the first girl he could reach. He thought Tillie would give up. And Mr. Pye didn't just attack the article; he decided to go after your character." He jammed his hands in his pockets and told Anne with a sardonic grin, "This article of yours is really drawing the rats out of the woodwork."

Anne sighed out a laugh. "It's not quite the reaction I'd hoped for, I'll admit, but I knew it wouldn't necessarily go over well with everyone." She fiddled with the buttons on her sweater. "Thank you for suggesting that I write it, though. I'd intended to, anyway, but I was just so angry, and Jane started maligning Josie, and I _know_ there aren't many people who'd do the same for me, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't try."

"I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but I think it means more coming from you for that reason," Gilbert admitted. "That, and nobody can deny that you're a talented writer."

"So talented that I have to set the type for my own articles because nobody else has the patience," Anne grumbled good-naturedly.

Gilbert laughed. "If this is an attempt to wheedle me into it sometime, it's not going to work."

Anne shrugged, fighting a grin. "I had to try." She sighed. "There's something soothing about it, honestly. Soothing… but also exciting, if that makes sense? We wouldn't have that printing press if there wasn't a want to see what we have to write. Even if there are… some people who don't like it, I guess it just means that what I'm writing actually affects people."

"A certain phrase about the pen being mightier than the sword comes to mind," Gilbert told her.

"I suppose there's more than one way to slay a dragon," Anne murmured thoughtfully.

Hoping he could coax a smile, Gilbert offered one of his own as he asked, "You never actually needed my help with that, did you?"

"Only the once," Anne replied dryly, but she was smirking. It quickly softened into a sincere smile. "I never did thank you for that, not really."

"You didn't?" Gilbert's brow furrowed in confusion.

Anne shook her head. "The only time I said thank you was when you asked if there were other dragons that needed slaying. My _no, thank you_ was only out of politeness."

"You wound me." To complete the melodramatic effect, Gilbert put his hand over his heart.

"That's why I'm thanking you now!" Anne laughed, before quieting. "I mean it. Thank you, Gilbert."

He could hear the unspoken _If you hadn't shown up when you did…_ It wasn't worth bringing up again. Gilbert nodded.

After a moment of silence, Anne added, "And thank you for speaking up today. As much as you say my article had impact coming from me, and while I don't think anyone doubts that you certainly wouldn't… do anything like that, it's a good reminder that there are boys who don't think it should be happening, either." She sighed. "Progress is much slower than I'd like, but I have hope."

"I'm glad," Gilbert replied softly.

"I'm not made for giving up, even when it would be better for me in the short term," Anne admitted, her tone rueful.

 _"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert is a_ passionate _individual, alright."_ Gilbert held in a sigh. All he wanted to say was _And that's the thing I admire most about you,_ but if he started, he wasn't going to be able to stop, and he wasn't ready to risk their friendship—not just yet.

After exams, he told himself. That way, if she didn't return his feelings, he could at least have a little distance, if only by dint of there being more people in Charlottetown. It felt a little cowardly, and more than a little selfish to admit to himself that he might need it, but it was better than leaving Avonlea and getting on a ship for a year again, especially since "my feelings aren't returned" was hardly comparable to "my father died and I'm trying to sort out how to live life far earlier than is really fair". Then again, there was the option of going to Toronto. It wasn't _so_ far away, and Miss Stacy could get him connected to the medical research program…

 _Already planning for this like it's inevitable—this is a new low._ Gilbert smiled to himself.

"What's so funny?" Anne wanted to know.

Gilbert blinked. "Oh, just… things never really go the way we think they will, and sometimes when we think they've turned out for the worst, it's really for the best." Quickly, he added, "Not always. Maybe not even a lot of the time, and definitely not without pain or discomfort, but it's interesting how rewarding it is when ends up well."

Anne tilted her head, digesting his words. "It's not too late to re-think a calling to philosophy, you know."

Gilbert laughed. "Well, if I find medicine isn't for me, I know what to fall back on, but I think I'll have to give medicine my best efforts first."

Anne took a deep breath and said earnestly, "I don't think you'll need to fall back on anything, Gilbert."

A speculative, only slightly uneasy silence descended, and neither of them said anything the rest of the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually bloomed out of "I suppose there's more than one way to slay a dragon", which was a line I scrapped from chapter 2 after not letting Anne's confrontation with Billy blow up.
> 
> Also, friendship building! Oh my God, the implication that they were friends without that really being shown much because there was SO MUCH to deal with in season 3 was just… aaaaaargh. Give me them being friends and talking about something that isn't plot-relevant and doesn't cause a misunderstanding!


	5. In Which Destruction is Wrought and an Ally is Earned

Anne and Diana met early to walk to the schoolhouse the next morning. The days they'd be able to walk together like this at all were dwindling—fewer than a hundred now remained until Diana would depart the island, and a scant handful of them were left for the newspaper before the Queen's entrance exam and harvest. Still, they were making an effort to chat as though thoughts of their separation didn't loom large at times. Instead, Diana was suggesting to Anne that they owed it to Josie to check the take-notice board and remove anything unwarranted about her, in the event anyone had seen fit to leave a harassing message.

Anne was agreeing as the schoolhouse came into view, but they were brought up short by what looked at first like a pile of rubble near the entrance to the school. The girls approached cautiously at first, but a piece of blackened paper blew by them, and Anne let go of Diana's arm and rushed forward.

The printing press was only just recognizable as what it was supposed to be. Parts of it had been twisted, snapped, and broken. The type strewn about, and Anne realized that what had felt like some small rocks in the area must have been some of the pieces. A small fire had clearly been lit using some of the remaining papers—Anne supposed the people who'd done this had wanted to see what they were doing, and hadn't minded getting rid of the paper, as well. The remaining papers had been thrown in with the printing press and the whole thing had been drenched in what looked like ink.

Anne rocked back a step, and Diana, now at Anne's side, clapped a hand to her mouth in shock. They could hear Miss Stacy's bike, as well as Moody and Charlie conversing. More footsteps and chatter continued, and within moments, the rest of the newspaper team were staring at the shattered printing press.

"Who would…" Ruby quavered.

"I can think of a few people," Gilbert murmured darkly.

"Over an _article?!_ " Tillie was incredulous.

"Mr. Phillips tried to use the switch on Cole for less," Anne recalled faintly, her mind now even more on the morning they'd found the wreckage of the Story Club than it had been before, now that she was thinking about Cole losing his last refuge in Avonlea.

The class fell quiet. It was true.

Miss Stacy cleared her throat. "It is clear from this that the article, and the show of solidarity and standing up for what we believe in, had an impact. It is equally clear that there are those who fear the consequences of respecting others as equals so much that they tried to silence the means by which the idea was spread.

"Their critical error was not taking into account that you are all just as capable of speaking out now as you were before. Newspapers and books are an excellent way to get information out to the world, but never forget that those words come from people—from _you_. To that end, it is important now more than ever that we all do what we can to prepare you for the Queen's entrance exam. We will reconvene in a few hours after… this gets cleaned up."

"We'll help," Moody promised, the other students nodding in agreement.

The students went inside to set their things down, then set about cleaning up. The girls scoured grass outside the schoolhouse for the type as the boys worked separate the press into sections as best they could and place it neatly along the side of the schoolhouse. Still, by the time most of the mess was cleaned up, it was clear nobody was in a studying mood, much less a writing one, and Miss Stacy dismissed the students.

* * *

Anne and Diana ambled back the way they had come. Diana wasn't sure what she'd tell her parents. The lack of newspaper the coming Sunday would make clear there was no reason for her to have come back to school, as the next two weeks were to be dedicated Queen's study sessions. Anne, meanwhile, was still fuming over the printing press.

"But of course, the board's made it clear that the last thing they want to do is talk or listen," Anne seethed. "The rest of them were hovering yesterday, and one of them _tutted_ and shook his head when the minister didn't come after us—not that any of the rest of them tried!"

"Isn't Mrs. Lynde also a member of the board?" Diana reminded her.

Anne stopped. "And she's helping Marilla with Delphine today…" She looked pleadingly at Diana, who nodded and, with an encouraging smile, simply said, "Go."

Anne ran.

* * *

Gilbert had stayed to speak with Miss Stacy, so Anne wasn't entirely surprised that she reached his house before he did. She flew past Bash, promising herself she would explain not returning his greeting later, and into the house.

" _Mrs. Lynde!_ " she cried.

"Anne? Heavens, what's happened?" Marilla wanted to know.

Anne waited until Mrs. Lynde appeared, then pounced. "So, did the board decide to have a meeting of its own yesterday to discuss why smashing the printing press was preferable to just about any alternative?"

"Smashed the printing press?" Mrs. Lynde sounded genuinely surprised. "Anne, you've lost me. What happened?"

"When we arrived at the school this morning, the printing press was smashed beyond repair. The leftover papers from yesterday were burned, or tossed on the pile, and the whole thing was covered in ink. I'm not sure how you could get any message other than that the board no longer wants the newspaper to circulate!" Anne had momentarily calmed at Mrs. Lynde's bewilderment, but the too-fresh memory of the printing press, along with Miss Stacy's brokenhearted look, had her anger quickly building back up.

"Surely we can clear all this up with a meeting—" Mrs. Lynde began.

Anne couldn't hold back. "Miss Stacy suggested a meeting, and this was the response! They lit a _fire,_ Mrs. Lynde—it could have burned down the school! They didn't want to _talk;_ they wanted us to be quiet!"

Mrs. Lynde tried once again. "I'll speak with them. This was a misunderstanding. We can find more appropriate sanctions—"

"What's there to misunderstand?!" Anne exploded. "As for _appropriate sanctions,_ I think that anything you'd suggest has been thoroughly blown past already. One article about respecting women, and they dismantle our printing press _after_ an offer to talk. And speaking of respecting women, if they respect what you have to say, Mrs. Lynde, then why didn't they consult you before taking action? This wasn't about the board finding a suitable punishment; this was about men feeling threatened! If what one _girl_ has to say has them deciding to smash a printing press, I shudder to think what action they might decide to take if you stand up to them. Remove you from the board, maybe?"

"They wouldn't!" Marilla gasped, but Mrs. Lynde looked like she could believe it.

"They wouldn't," she said carefully, "if they had a reason to keep me on that board. You said that there was a fire?" she asked Anne, who nodded. "How close was it to the schoolhouse, would you say? Did it smell like smoke inside?"

Anne shrugged. "It was right next to the steps. And it was hard to tell where the smoke smell ended and began, but I'd say it smelled a little like smoke inside."

"Did the paint on the schoolhouse peel, perhaps from heat? Any char marks?" Mrs. Lynde pressed.

Anne grinned, seeing where Mrs. Lynde's plan was headed, but had to answer honestly. "You'd have to ask the boys. They were the ones cleaning up there."

"Better yet—" Mrs. Lynde stood. "If Marilla has things well in hand here, I should go see for myself. Such in incident is no small matter. Where would Avonlea be if our school were to burn down? And who is to say that the men who destroyed your printing press didn't have it in mind? It seems things in Avonlea have gotten out of hand, and surely the board would agree that anyone who'd take such destructive action must be brought to heel." She bustled about getting herself ready while Anne smiled at Marilla who—for what would be the only time in Anne's memory— _winked_ at her.

Anne stayed to help Marilla with Dellie for a bit, but once the baby went down to sleep, Marilla told her to go study or "at least see if Matthew needs help—your pacing about is going to wake Delphine."

Thus chastened (though Marilla had still been smiling—Mrs. Lynde's hinted plans seemed to have given Marilla some spark as well), Anne had grabbed her things and headed out the door. She thought to stop to talk with Bash on the way out, as she'd promised herself, only to find that Gilbert was already telling him what had happened. He looked a little surprised to see Anne there, but not terribly much.

"I came here to see Mrs. Lynde," Anne explained. "Diana reminded me that she's also a part of the board, and as… _much_ as she be, I didn't think this was something she'd have a hand in." She grinned lopsidedly. "She decided to go see the damage for herself, and it sounded like she had more of a scheme than that, but I didn't really think to ask, and she seemed like she was in a hurry."

Gilbert nodded. "Mrs. Lynde's usually not so hurried. I don't think I've ever seen her run before today," he chuckled.

"The gossip usually comes to her," Bash pointed out. When Anne and Gilbert looked mildly surprised (perhaps just remembering that he was there, Bash thought to himself), he shrugged. "Believe me, I hear more than enough of it here. I might know more about what's going on in Avonlea than some of the other gossips, though I do take all of it with a grain of salt."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be one of the first to know what's going on from the source this time," Anne told him. "But if Mrs. Lynde doesn't come back and you need more help with Dellie today, you know where to find me."

"You're not staying?" Bash asked, cheerfully ignoring a very pointed look from Gilbert. "I figured you and Blythe might want to hurl questions at each other until one of you drops."

Anne sighed and shook her head before explaining in only slightly melodramatically, "Marilla's banished me from the house for being too excitable."

Bash gestured around. "There's an orchard. You've got room."

Anne bit her lip and looked at Gilbert. She wasn't averse to the idea, but she was willing to defer to his choice if he wanted to study quietly, or if he felt there was something else that required his attention. The look Gilbert was giving Bash seemed to indicate that he didn't appreciate Bash's suggestion, so she was a little surprised when he turned to her and asked with a small shrug, "Well, shall we?"

Anne swallowed and nodded. "U-um, sure!" She gripped her basket with both hands and joined Gilbert as they made their way to the orchard.

* * *

Anne poked her head into the barn. "Hello, Matthew!"

Matthew beckoned her in. "How was your day, Anne?"

"Where do I _start?_ " Anne sighed and launched into the tale: the walk to school, the shock of seeing the printing press destroyed ("all that hard work that you and Miss Stacy put into it!"), Miss Stacy's speech and the half-spoken agreement for the exam-takers to redouble their study efforts, the walk to the Blythe-Lacroix farm and confronting Mrs. Lynde, and Mrs. Lynde's plan.

"…I wanted to stay and play with Dellie, but Marilla told me I was too excitable, so I wound up staying and studying with Gilbert—well, quizzing each other. We lost track of who did better, but I suspect it was close."

"Always is," Matthew observed quietly. "But I know that you'll do well. You've got brains. You've got determination. And you've got us in your corner."

Anne had to fight back tears, but flung her arms around Matthew. "I know you'll be proud of me no matter what, but…" She grinned wryly. "It _would_ be a feather in my cap, you have to admit."

"As I said—" Matthew gently tapped Anne's hat. "— _you'll_ do well." The emphasis was slight, not meant to discredit Gilbert behind his back, but to remind Anne of what was important: that she was capable, and as long as she believed in herself, she could do what she set her mind to.

(If it happened to be that what she put her mind to was outdoing Gilbert Blythe, Matthew's confidence in her was no less for it.)

Anne grinned, but it faltered. "I hope Mrs. Lynde's plan works, but I'm worried," she admitted.

Matthew wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Rachel… she gets done what she sets her mind to. She's someone you can count on when she's on your side, and you have her on your side."

Anne's wry smile was back. "So you're saying that Mrs. Lynde and I have more in common than I'd prefer?"

"I'm saying that anyone should consider it an honor to share that trait with you." Matthew kissed the top of Anne's head. "Get along inside now."

Anne stood on her toes and kissed Matthew on the cheek. "Thank you, Matthew," she said quietly, then, as she was bid, she went back to the house, more invigorated by the day's events than she could have imagined she would be. The only thing she'd wish later on, when Marilla came bearing news of Mrs. Lynde's highly successful campaign to get the board to do every last bit of her bidding, was that she could tell Diana.

She wouldn't entirely forget that wish talking to Gilbert the next day when they met up on the way to study group, but his infectious grin would certainly serve to boost her mood even further. Diana would notice when Anne would visit that afternoon, and though she'd mostly keep it to herself, her own smile would let Anne know that she'd maybe given a bit more away than she'd intended when she'd mentioned that she'd told Gilbert, especially as she didn't seem to have told Miss Stacy. Anne would backtrack and say that Marilla had said that Mrs. Lynde had already told Miss Stacy, and Diana would sigh fondly and hope that one of them would buck up the courage, preferably before she left for Paris, but she'd dutifully change the subject and decide keep her own counsel until after the exam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A relatively minor nitpick I had from 3x08 was that there is NO WAY that a) that school fire wouldn't have spread at least a little farther (especially as it was ignited by burning grass and thus should have spread out from there, barring meteorological weirdness, and that b) even if the fire had somehow miraculously torched only the schoolhouse, that it didn't stink to high heaven. If you've ever been within a few blocks of a burned building, you'll know that the stench is acrid and it hangs around; they wouldn't just happen upon it and be surprised.
> 
> But also, y'know, bigger things to worry about in 3x08, so I get it. Those will be dealt with, too.


	6. In Which The Beginnings of an Overture Are Made

The study group was meant to meet the day before the exam, but tensions were running high, and Miss Stacy dismissed the group after an unproductive hour in which Jane nearly fainted from nerves, Ruby had to be asked to stop humming three separate times, and the taller of the Pauls would not stop pacing, looking rather distinctly at one point like he might be ill.

Anne had decided to visit Diana on the way home. She realized her friend might be out, but she figured she'd try, only to discover that Diana was there, and that Aunt Jo was visiting!

Better still, Anne quickly realized she had an ally in getting Diana to take the entrance exam the next day, and Jo was thrilled to know she had the same in Anne. Diana, however, clearly felt backed into a corner.

"I can't just… turn my back on everything; can't you both see that? I've never had that luxury, and I never will!" Diana had run from the room.

Anne had followed her, finding her just outside, trying to compose herself. She put a hand on Diana's shoulder and walked around to face her friend. "I won't… try to convince you to take the exam anymore, Diana, but this seems like it's about more than just that."

Diana wanted to tell her so badly. She should have said something weeks ago, but it had never seemed like the right time. "It's not as important as the exam, but I promise, I'll tell you after."

Anne blinked curiously at her. She couldn't fault Diana for keeping secrets when she wasn't exactly forthcoming about certain feelings of her own, but they were at least something that Diana had some knowledge of, and Anne couldn't really think of anything that Diana had hinted on or seemed to give too much away about recently… but the point was that she was promising to say something when she didn't have to, and that was what mattered. She smiled at Diana. "Well, you should at least come to the Ruins afterward. I doubt anyone will say no to having you there. And if they do, they'll have me to answer to!"

Diana laughed and hugged Anne. "Of course I'll be there."

* * *

Anne was a little troubled by the time she got home. She considered going to find Matthew, as Marilla wasn't yet home from watching Dellie, and Marilla had requested that she not stop by today. (She'd been told they'd want to give Bash's mother a few days to settle in. From what little Gilbert had said about meeting her in Trinidad, she was reserved. From the way Bash wouldn't say anything and kept his expression carefully blank most times the topic of his mother came up, Anne sensed that there was more to the story.)

There wasn't anything to bother Matthew about, she decided, but she stopped in the barn to give Belle and Butterscotch a quick rub each. Seeing that Matthew and Jerry weren't there, she decided to confide some of her worries, and to wish that Diana would join the rest of the class tomorrow.

She went into the house and waited for Marilla to come home. Anne was going to respect the ask not to go over, but that didn't mean she couldn't pepper Marilla with the thousand questions she was bursting with.

Interestingly, Marilla seemed to have as many questions as Anne did, and concerns besides, and Anne found herself answering questions about whether or not she was ready for the exam (along with assurances that _of course_ Marilla knew she'd do fine, but as Anne's guardian, it was her job to worry) and how late Anne planned to be out afterward, and when would the inevitable good results come in.

The idea of the results coming in had been vague to Anne before, but this made it real. Of course she knew she'd do well, and of course she wanted to best Gilbert, but the idea that a paper would make it real was somewhat startling. She excused herself to study a little more, promising Marilla she'd be back down to help with dinner.

* * *

The day of the exam dawned bright and clear, and Anne was up to see it. She'd slept well enough, but when she'd awoken as the sky had just started to lighten, she found she couldn't get back to sleep. Instead, she went over as much as she could remember in her head until it got light enough to read. Marilla called her down to help with breakfast, insisting that Anne needed a break for her brain to reset, "and don't tell me that you'll take one on the walk; we both know you'll spending it reviewing."

Marilla was right, and Anne did as she was bid, managing to stop repeating mathematical formulas for the half-hour breakfast took, but was right back to it afterwards pausing only for a last bit of encouragement from Matthew and Marilla before she departed.

Halfway there, she was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn't hear her name being called for a moment.

"Anne!" Gilbert jogged up to her. "I've been calling your name. Here." He held a pen—her pen—out to her. "Sorry for not returning it yesterday. Things got a little…" He trailed off with a chuckle.

Anne took the pen and managed a nervous giggle of agreement. "I wanted to go see Diana. I hoped… I hoped I could get her to come today. I don't know if she will, but I had to try," she said quietly.

Gilbert nodded. "I hope she does, too. There's no reason she shouldn't."

"Her parents might disagree with you," Anne told him grimly. "They see no other path for her than finishing school in Paris. I don't see why she can't go to Queen's and learn all of those things here that she'd learn here. Her mother certainly knows them, and Aunt Jo must, too, and Aunt Jo is encouraging her to attend Queen's."

"Diana's bright. If she does show up today, I'm sure she'll have the option to attend when our scores come back," Gilbert assured her.

Anne managed a faint smile and gripped the strap of her bag more tightly as she took a shaky breath. "This exam… it just determines so much. I haven't felt this nervous since my first day in Avonlea."

"You ran into a burning house to try and stop the spread of a fire. This scares you more than that?" Gilbert was incredulous.

"That wasn't an exam that would determine my entire future," Anne told him matter-of-factly.

"Anne, you…" Gilbert shook his head. After a moment, he said simply, "You're incredible."

Anne tittered nervously. "Was that a compliment?"

"It's a statement of fact."

"That's not a yes."

"It's not a no."

For a moment, Anne forgot her nerves about the exam entirely, only because she wasn't at all sure how to react to this pronouncement. Finally, she stammered, "Th-thank you? I think?"

Gilbert tilted his head a little, trying to come up with the right way to phrase his response. "Let me put it this way: I admire your bravery, but that makes the things you do worry about just a little confusing in this case."

"I was scared to run into Ruby's house, I'll have you know," Anne informed him.

"But this exam scares you more," Gilbert clarified.

Anne started to reply yes, but for some reason, she was finding that it wasn't quite so true anymore. "I suppose it's really that this exam has more to do with my goals. My hopes and dreams. If I somehow don't do well, I have to live with that. That's what scares me."

"If you don't do well, we're both in trouble," Gilbert chuckled.

"You don't really think I'll do better than you, do you?" Anne wanted to know.

Gilbert shrugged a shoulder. "Sure I do. At the very least, I think we've got even odds. Not that I won't be doing my best, of course."

Anne twisted her hands around the handle of her basket. "Well… I guess we'll find out in a few weeks." She took one hand from her basket and offered it to Gilbert. "May the best student rise to the top."

Gilbert stopped to take it. They shook once and continued on their way, arriving at the schoolhouse to find most of the students who would be taking the test in what could charitably be called a frazzled state.

Jane paced back and forth, muttering to herself that she _was_ prepared and she _would_ do well. Tillie and Josie reviewed history. Ruby looked like she was calmly playing cat's cradle with herself, but her mouth was pulled tight; she was tense. One Paul sat on the step of the schoolhouse with his eyes on a book in his lap, though he was jiggling his leg so nervously that Anne couldn't believe he was reading. The other Paul was pacing the same way Jane was, but silently, and his face was a distinct shade of green. Charlie was only remaining calm by trying to keep Moody calm, but as soon as Moody saw Gilbert, both Moody and Charlie dissolved into full-on panic, Moody insisting that his heart was going to burst from his chest. (Anne wanted to laugh, but she hadn't exactly been calm herself.)

"Diana!" Ruby cried.

Anne whipped around. Diana was running up. Anne grabbed her in a tight hug. "You're here!"

"I'm _terrified,_ " Diana admitted as they pulled back. "Aunt Jo will spin stories to make sure my parents don't notice, but that's the easy part. This…" She took a shaky breath. "Anne, I don't know if I can do this."

Anne clasped Diana's hands. "You _can,_ Diana; I know it."

Diana opened her mouth to say something again, but instead gulped when several gasps went up from the other students as the exam proctor showed up.

Everyone fell silent. Even Gilbert looked nervous now, which Moody whispered was _not_ helping, so would he _please_ at least try to look like everything was going to be alright until the exam began? (Half the class burst into nervous laughter when Gilbert, as serious as he'd ever been, informed Moody that Moody could just not look at him if his face was a problem.)

The students filed into the schoolhouse anxiously, not speaking with one another. The prior day's tension had been bad enough, but this was beyond anything any of them had experienced or expected.

Anne settled in to the desk diagonally to Diana's. The exam proctor distributed the exams, and the class waited intently on his instructions. Charlie nearly broke the seal on his exam, but the proctor noticed and sharply instructed him not to. Ruby looked ready to burst into tears, as she sat in front of Charlie and for just the shortest moments (until the examiner clarified he was talking to Charlie by addressing him as "young man") thought the rebuke was directed at her even though she hadn't touched the books.

As the examiner settled into Miss Stacy's desk, Anne cast one last look around the room. Gilbert's desk was even with hers on the opposite side of the room, and she caught his gaze for just a moment. He gave her a brief but unmistakably encouraging smile, which Anne returned, only for both of them to be startled when the proctor cleared his throat and told them the could begin the exam.

Anne took a deep breath and broke the seal on the exam books, uncapped her pen, and began to work.

* * *

It had to be past midnight now. Everyone was gathering their things at a leisurely pace. They were tired, a little hazy, and not quite ready to go of the most exciting night of their lives to date.

"I can't believe we won't be going to school tomorrow!" Moody cried.

"T'morrow's Saturday, Moody; we wouldn't be going to school, anyway," Ruby reminded him. "And anyway, that means that we have free time…" She squeezed his hand.

Half of the small group of students—graduates!—around them laughed and made kissy noises while the other cooed. Anne smiled at the pair and went to find Diana.

The girls embraced tightly. "I'll come and visit whenever I can," Anne promised.

"I know," Diana whispered back. "I'll try to make sure Mother doesn't occupy too much of my time."

"Are you sure you don't want me to try to plead your case?" Anne's voice wavered only a little bit.

"I don't want her forbidding me from seeing you again. Having to invent excuses every time isn't exactly ideal. And anyway, I don't want her trying to tell Marilla you're a bad influence again." Diana squeezed Anne's shoulder.

Anne thought for a moment. "Marilla might help! She… she knows what it's like to have limited opportunities. She wouldn't want that for you."

Diana shook her head. "That's very sweet, Anne. I just don't want to spend the next few weeks worrying if it's all for naught anyway."

"It won't be!" Anne assured her. "Diana, you wouldn't have taken the exam if you didn't think there was a chance."

Diana smiled, just a little sorrowful. "I'll let you know once we know the results."

Anne sighed. "Can I at least walk you home?"

"No, I should… I need to be quiet, and I just… I want to think. But I'll see you tomorrow!" Diana promised. "I still—I promised I'd tell you… what I wanted to tell you."

The girls hugged once more, then parted. Anne watched her walk off, then went back to finish gathering her things.

She had thought she was going to be on her own, but quick steps behind her and her name being spoken made her turn. "Gilbert!" Anne laughed in surprise. "That's the second time today."

"Sorry." Gilbert fidgeted just a little, and Anne couldn't quite read his expression in the dark. "I just wanted to… offer to walk you home."

"I can get home on my own, Gilbert!" Anne insisted. "I don't need you to walk me!"

"We're going the same way," Gilbert pointed out. "It's not really about whether you can or can't get home on your own; it's that I'm tired and we're leaving at the same time, and I'd rather not skulk along behind you like some…"

"Ruffian? Ne'er-do-well? Specter? _Bête noire_?" Anne offered as she looked around for her things.

"Whichever is fine, as long as you stop making me feel like I'm taking the English section of the exam again," Gilbert grumbled, still sorting through the tossed hats.

Anne put her hat in her basket and picked the basket up. "That last one was French," she pointed out.

"Not helping." But Gilbert was smiling. He picked up his cap and brushed it off, but didn't put it on. "So, again, shall we?"

The gently playful smile Anne gave him was answer enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have a lot of favorite moments from this chapter, but "You're incredible"/"Was that a compliment?"/"It's a statement of fact" takes the cake. I wanted Gilbert to follow it up by saying that he'd think that about Anne whether or not he liked her, but that just… wasn't going to work. And sounded a bit like an insult, which, uh, seemed like a poor idea, given where this is inevitably going.


	7. In Which a Walk Home Goes Quite Splendidly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA in which jack forgets it's Saturday as she's lost all concept of time and nearly forgets to post the new chapter. ^^;

They set off at a leisurely pace, both of them swearing they were never going to play Red Rover ever again after Anne asked with mild concern why Gilbert was rubbing his forearms.

"That's why I run at Ruby. She usually lets go." Anne grinned. Ruby hadn't wanted to let go of Moody's hand, and so Anne had taken mercy on them and run at Ruby and Charlie. Of course, Charlie had run right back at them and Ruby had volunteered to go back, so it hadn't necessarily worked out terribly well as a winning strategy. (Not that strategy had exactly been at the forefront of anyone's mind by the time they'd gotten through a bottle of moonshine.)

Anne was definitely pleasantly woozy. She managed to knock gently into Gilbert's shoulder a couple of times as they walked and chatted, until he decided they were going to stop and Anne was going to have some water. She sighed, but didn't protest, instead mutely offering her bottle of water to Gilbert after she drained half of it. He looked unsure, and Anne chided, "A doctor—even one who does research—has to take care of himself in order to take care of others."

She couldn't decipher the look Gilbert gave her, but he took the bottle and downed the rest of the water before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I honestly don't know why people bother with moonshine. Rum, either—they both taste terrible."

"Sure, but feeling kind of floaty and carefree is nice," Anne pointed out as they started walking again.

"Well, I assure you, the hangover is decidedly _not,_ " Gilbert informed her.

"Oh believe me, I know," Anne told him offhandedly, laughing when he stumbled to a stop and gaped at her. "Diana and I… we didn't intend to, I swear, but I mistook some currant wine for raspberry cordial the first time I had her over for tea. It was… quite the learning experience. You're right that moonshine certainly tastes worse… though I wouldn't know about _rum,_ " she prompted curiously.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Bash had me try some in Trinidad. Well, two kinds, really: normal rum and babash. Not that I was supposed to be trying the babash, but I did, and I can truthfully say I would recommend neither. I threw up after a few swallows of each and my head was still killing me hours later, though being sick probably had more to do with that. Bash says he'll get me to develop a taste for it someday, but I doubt it." He chuckled ruefully. "And I guarantee you, there was no pleasant floating sensation then."

"Now, though?" Anne wanted to know.

Gilbert shrugged. "I'm not sure I'd call it pleasant, but it's not bad," he hedged.

"Well, I suppose friends don't have to agree on everything," Anne said breezily. 

"We haven't had a good argument in a while, anyway," agreed Gilbert with a laugh.

Anne giggled. "I'm not sure whether you think that's a good thing or a bad thing right now, but I'm not sure I'm in any state to care about anything enough to argue, anyway, and I think you're too much of a gentleman to try and find something that might spark."

Gilbert looked almost proud, but couldn't help a little bit of a barb. "That's the nicest thing you've ever accused me of."

"Don't get used to it," Anne retorted mischievously. "It's probably the nicest thing I _will_ ever accuse you of."

"I take that as a personal challenge," Gilbert informed her.

"Oh, really?" _And what are you going to do: propose?_ Anne wasn't sure whether she was blanching or flushing from having almost blurted out the thought.

Further proving Anne's earlier point on gentlemanliness—not that she was about to admit it—Gilbert gave her a way out. "Well, it seems neither of us is inclined to argue tonight."

Anne made a somewhat strangled noise of agreement. "I guess quiet might not be so bad," she murmured. The floating sensation of the moonshine had started to dissipate, but now it was back in full force. She wasn't going to let herself think about why that might be; she was just going to enjoy it for what it was.

* * *

"I figured it out," Anne announced after a few minutes' companionable silence.

Gilbert gave her a sideways look. "Figured what out?"

"The thing we have in common as friends that might not be obvious." She stopped and turned to look at Gilbert, who also stopped. "We're not inclined to give up, even when things get difficult. We always find some path forward, even if it's not the path we would have expected. Though I have to say, you have kind of a flair for the dramatic about it, taking a job on a steamer, bringing Bash back here, delaying your college entrance when you could have done it early…" Anne frowned briefly, and when she brightened again, she still looked just a little troubled. "But going to Toronto will be worth it!"

"Toronto?" Gilbert sounded genuinely surprised.

Anne gave him a look. "Yes, Toronto. It's a city in Ontario? There's a university with a medical research program that you were interested in, if you'll recall?"

Gilbert let out a playfully exasperated sigh. "I walked right into that, didn't I?" He waited for Anne to affirm (which she did with a nod and what sounded a bit like a snort) before taking a deep breath and admitting, "I won't be going to Toronto."

Having anticipated Anne's near-explosive " _What?!_ ", he barely waited for her to finish the exclamation before continuing, "I'll be attending Queen's for at least one year, then after I'm done there, I'll be looking at Redmond, since they also have a medical research program."

"But you—! I mean I suppose that makes sense… but… but…" Anne shook her head to clear it. "Why?" The question came out much quieter than either of them expected.

"The same reason I came back to Avonlea at all: it's home. Bash and Dellie are here. My family's history is here. I know I'd be welcome back no matter what, but I reneged on my promise to Bash once. I won't do that again. Toronto might be more prestigious, but there's something to be said for making a name for myself in an up-and-coming program that isn't at least two days' journey from Avonlea."

Anne nodded faintly. All she could say to that was to repeat, "I suppose that makes sense." She took a deep breath. "Well, I'm… glad you'll be—that you'll… I'm glad." She knew her cheeks were flaming.

"Who would you compete with without me there?" Gilbert teased gently.

Anne let out a soft laugh. "Do you really think there's nobody in Charlottetown who could compete with us?"

"I think—" Gilbert paused to take a breath. "I think there's nobody in Charlottetown who could _compare_ with you."

Anne blinked once, and then several more times in rapid succession. "Is that— Gilbert, I… What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means…" Gilbert heaved a sigh. "It means what I should have told you before… everything. It just never seemed like a good time. There was always something. And I've realized that if I try and wait for the right moment, it's not going to happen, and now I'm just hoping that it's not too late—" Gilbert cut himself off, making a note to figure out later whether rambling was an effect of alcohol or of opening up to Anne.

Anne had to remind herself to breathe. "Not too late for what?" she asked quietly, maybe hopefully, if Gilbert was reading her right.

And just like that, words became all but impossible, and instead, Gilbert brought a hand up to Anne's cheek and leaned in to kiss her.

It was a little clumsier than he'd intended. Inexperience aside, as with how the moonshine had affected his words, his actions were definitely a little less graceful than usual. They'd been walking slowly, so he hadn't noticed until now, but all he could hope was that if Anne wouldn't be put off otherwise, this wouldn't tip the scale against him, either.

Just as he started to pull back, there was a slight pressure as Anne started to respond, and he could feel her hand wrapped around the elbow of what had been his free hand, but that now rested on Anne's waist. For just a moment, he pulled her closer, then forced himself to—slowly—draw back. A part of him was afraid he'd imagined any sort of favorable reaction on Anne's part, and another wondered how it was that after ten seconds of kissing he felt far more intoxicated now than he had at any point tonight. (The thought ironically sobered him almost immediately as he swore to himself that nobody, especially Bash, would ever know he'd thought such a thing.)

For her part, Anne bit down on her lip—a sure sign that she was processing what had just happened—before smiling slowly and informing him, "I don't think that was too late."

"Late enough, though," Gilbert murmured, smiling as Anne chuckled her agreement. "But I guess I should actually say it: Anne," He took a deep breath "I love you."

Whatever reaction he'd been expecting, it hadn't been the pure shock—possibly disbelief—that had instantly spread across Anne's face. "You _love_ …?"

This wasn't the reaction he'd hoped for. Gilbert nodded, his heart dropping. Honesty was supposed to be the right course of action, but right now, it felt like the farthest thing from. "I understand if—if you don't…" He was trying to be gallant, but his hands were shaking, and he let go of Anne so she wouldn't notice, even if his thoughts were plain to see on his face.

Anne gaped for a moment. "It's not that I don't—! I just… I didn't think… like you said, there was always something and I've never been—well, I just _thought_ I wouldn't be… not so soon, anyway, and people will _talk_ and…" Tears were starting to form in her eyes.

Now Gilbert was confused. "Why does what other people think matter?"

"It always matters," Anne told him. "I'm not… well-liked. Not like you are. I'm outlandish and I want more than I deser—than people think I should have. And I know that that shouldn't matter to me, but when I'm faced with that reality every day, it does. I'll never be the 'right kind of woman'; I'll never be able just... be quiet. After I go to Queen's, I intend to go to Redmond. I want to earn a B.A.!"

"And you think I'd stand in the way of that?" Gilbert was even more confused.

Anne shook her head. "No… but I'm not going to be a conventional woman, and—and I don't want that to stand in the way of what _you_ want."

"It wouldn't. I want for you what you want for yourself. I couldn't not know you're unconventional, Anne, and I don't love you despite that; I love you because of it! I want to build a future with someone who understands that drive and who faces challenges head-on, even when it isn't easy. You are passionate, and caring, and intelligent…" Gilbert's hands had found their way back to Anne's cheek and waist. "Anne, I'm not asking for you to marry me tomorrow or in a year or five years. Not—" he stumbled quickly over his next words "—that I don't want that someday—when we're both ready, because I _do_ —but for now, I'm just… asking if we can take it day by day. I can't not try anymore, not if you're willing." He gave Anne a hopeful half-smile.

Anne's hand moved to cover Gilbert's on her cheek for a few seconds before she placed it on his shoulder. Her other hand came up to rest on the back of his neck. She looked into his eyes for a moment then, seeming to find certainty there, she leaned in to press her lips firmly to his. It was just as sweet as the first kiss, but a little more confident: Anne tugged on Gilbert's shoulder to pull him a little closer, and both of them were smiling as Gilbert's hand went from Anne's waist to the small of her back.

The kisses continued, growing only a little heated once or twice—they didn't need to make up in one night for what they'd later deem months of missed opportunities, but they were certainly going to get off to a good start. Eventually, and only very reluctantly, did they draw apart just enough for air. Gilbert rested his forehead against Anne's.

"I can't promise it'll always be easy," Anne murmured as her eyes fluttered open. 

With the teasing smile Anne wasn't entirely sure when she'd come to love, Gilbert replied, "I'd worry if you did," before kissing her softly once more, then, after Anne picked up her basket—having dropped it in surprise during the first kiss—he tucked her free arm through his, and they continued on their way.

* * *

They were mostly quiet the rest of the way back to Green Gables, just reveling in the change of the night, though nothing had changed, really, other than what they knew of the other's feelings, Anne pointed out. Gilbert had replied that it was enough, and Anne had agreed.

Anne had yawned as they stepped up close to the porch. Gilbert gave her only a light, brief kiss and exchanged good-nights with Anne before he turned to leave.

"Gilbert—"

Anne waited until Gilbert turned back before continuing, "I love you." Seeing his expression turn to one that was equal parts joy and confusion, she explained quickly, "I didn't actually say it earlier, and I didn't want you to leave tonight not knowing… not hearing it from me."

It took only two steps for Gilbert to be back in front of her. For as intensely as he was looking at her, she was a little surprised that he was restrained enough not to gather her into his arms and kiss her until the sun rose (not that she would have objected overmuch had that been his choice). Instead, Gilbert took one of Anne's hands and placed a searing kiss to the back of it, then pressed a quicker, softer one to her lips before turning and departing without a word.

He was practically to the fence before Anne remembered how to breathe properly, and he was out of sight before her legs worked enough to take her back inside and up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotta say, I love it when Anne's brain is clearly going a thousand miles a minute and whoever's talking with her has to catch up. Gilbert's like, "Hold up, when did we get to marriage in this conversation?" while also knowing that they will someday get married but trying very hard not to scare Anne off. (And to be clear, Anne doesn't think he's proposing, but she knows just as much that she wants to be with him and she can't not think about that future.) There's always the conversation they're actually having and the conversation they think they're having.  
> They'll get better reconciling them as time goes on.


	8. EPILOGUE: In Which the End of the Story is the Start of the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: There is some period-typical racism towards the Mi'kmaq and other Indigenous Canadians,similar to what was shown in the show.

The week flew by as they navigated their new (and yet somehow familiar) romance, stealing time here and there as they could. They weren't fooling the Cuthberts—and it was only by the grace of God that they didn't wind up having to fool Rachel Lynde—and Bash made no secret to Gilbert about not being fooled, but that was quickly resolved when Gilbert called on Matthew and Marilla to ask their permission to court Anne. (As it turned out, it was less asking permission and more the Cuthberts immediately and eagerly granting it.)

The less pleasant business that occupied not only that week but the next as well was Diana's confession the day after the exam: that's she'd been seeing Jerry, and that she couldn't anymore; that they were just too different no matter how much they liked each other. Anne could get past some need for secrecy, of course, though not knowing until it was over had certainly stung, but Diana's words about being too different dealt the real blow. Logically, Anne knew they'd be living separate lives where they wouldn't see each other quite as much as adults, and that Diana's would look very different to her own, but the separation they might yet go through was more painful still, and only served as a reminder that they could be torn apart by their differences. She'd fled the conversation in tears, yelling at Diana not to follow her when Diana called out for her to just please come back, and she'd refused to see Diana when she'd come by the next day, only for Diana to sadly look away from her the next week at Sunday service when Anne caught her eye.

Anne had been mulling over approaching Diana the next week after Sunday service, but gossip about a Mi'kmaq girl running away from the residential school had spread, and there was some fear about retaliation—for what reason, Anne wasn't entirely sure—but that was soon quashed when it was discovered that the Mi'kmaq had left the area entirely. Anne begged Matthew and Marilla to allow her to travel to the residential school to see if Ka'kwet was well, but was denied. No matter how she explained or pleaded or wept, they wouldn't relent—every hand was needed at the farm. She didn't want to wait until she got to Queen's to take an excursion to Nova Scotia, but it was seeming like she wouldn't have a choice.

She confided her plans to Gilbert, who assured Anne that she shouldn't feel responsible, and that if she was still set on the idea, he'd accompany her if she wanted. She sighed and told him she appreciated it, and she'd probably accept his help, but she just needed to think.

That decision made, she went to go see Diana and make things right before the scores for the entrance exam came in. The girls had a long talk about their differences, and how things would change, including their friendship, but even if that was painful, it didn't have to be the end of it. The girls were quickly both in tears, and by the time Anne made her way home, though her heart was a little lighter, her eyes were red and swollen.

Marilla let her go to bed early that night, bringing up a slice of toast with some butter that Anne barely touched. Upon discovering this, Marilla sat down on the edge of the bed, undid Anne's braids, and brushed out her hair. Anne was breathing deeply and evenly by the end of it, and Marilla quietly left the room after pulling a blanket over Anne, hoping that the girl could find some peace in sleep.

* * *

The day the exam results came in dawned cloudy. A midsummer storm was rolling through, and Anne couldn't help feeling nervous. In a story, it would be an ill omen, she told Gilbert as they walked side by side to the schoolhouse. He briefly slid his hand into hers and squeezed it, only just feeling Anne return the gesture before releasing his hand. They continued walking in silence, though Anne was managing a smile.

As they waited for the results a short time later, the rain having started lashing the sides of the schoolhouse just before Miss Stacy laid the results down, Anne was clutching Diana's hand. This seemed like their last chance for any hope of things remaining even remotely the same. Anne barely even registered the news that she and Gilbert had tied for first until she heard Diana's name being called as having scored well enough to get into Queen's. Anne very nearly collapsed into tears, and she had to hold Diana up for a moment as her bosom friend sagged against her in disbelief.

Milling around with their classmates as they waited for the squall to break before heading home, Diana explained that she had no idea how to convince her parents, but she was determined now that she knew she could succeed. A few hours later, burst into Green Gables, weeping that it had all been for nothing. Anne was prepared to march over to the Barry house then and there; thankfully, Rachel and Marilla were sitting downstairs and managed to stall Anne long enough to convince her to stay, and Marilla would speak with Diana's parents. All Anne and Diana could do was cling to each other, hoping against hope that Marilla would persuade the Barrys.

* * *

It wasn't until the day before they were due to depart for Charlottetown that they found out that Marilla's campaign had indeed been successful. Diana would be living with Aunt Jo, partly because the boardinghouse Anne was in was already full and partly because her parents were unsure about the suitability of the boardinghouses that did have room. Aunt Jo offered to house Anne for a term until the girls could find lodging together, but Anne couldn't accept such an offer, though she did promise to visit on weekends as her schoolwork—and social schedule—allowed.

Of course, having heard about Anne's previous visit to the residential school, Aunt Jo was privy to Anne's plans for her second trip as well. She insisted that Anne be accompanied with a slightly worried look after learning that the men looking for the escaped girl (and the word "escaped" already had her looking concerned) had been aggressive. _"What school sends men with guns after their pupils?"_ she'd asked.

Anne hadn't been able to answer before the journey, and she hadn't wanted to answer after.

The nun who had answered the door hadn't recognized her. Anne was sure it was the same nun, but all she would say was that a girl named Hannah had run away, and that if Anne knew anything about this girl, she should say it immediately.

Anne had been so taken aback that it had taken a moment for her to muster the words, and just as she was about to speak, two children and another nun rounded the building with milk bottles. Though Anne's heart had given a hopeful leap, the girl was not Ka'kwet. Her hair was crudely shorn to her chin, and she tried unsuccessfully to choke back a hacking cough. The younger child—a boy—looked gaunt; Anne knew the look of a child who hadn't eaten enough. Neither would look her in the eye, and the nun Anne had been speaking to kept trying to block Anne's view, apologizing for the girl's poor manners coughing like that. "We'll see to it that she understands just how impolite that is," she'd said, her voice just slightly raised, and for a moment, Anne was back in the orphanage, receiving her own unwarranted punishments. Gilbert, who had been politely and quietly standing a few steps back, had taken Anne's arm and thanked the nun for her time before leading Anne away.

They'd made it to the ferry before Anne had started to cry. Gilbert had simply held her as she told him between sobs why she'd reacted the way she had. Between her memories of the orphanage and the way the children looked—which had unsettled Gilbert as well—she'd taken most of the ferry ride to calm down, and having to explain it again hadn't helped. Anne had taken several tries that night to draft a coherent letter to the Canadian government urging them to look into the conditions at the residential school. Surely the children should be healthy and happy and not kept under lock and key and armed guard?

The response she received weeks later was not reassuring. While the response was that it did sound like there were unwell children and that they would assess the situation, Anne didn't see the more prison-like aspects of the school addressed, only that _"the Canadian government's Department of Indian Affairs is working to ensure healthy conditions so that the children served by the residential schools can successfully leave behind their previous primitive lives and assimilate into Canadian society."_

Anne hadn't felt good about the word "assimilate". She'd been under the impression that the children were going to take what they learned back to their families and be able to move freely between two worlds, rather than made to live in a society that refused to try to understand their way of life. She was resolved to find out as much as she could about the schools. If the government wasn't surprised about the poor treatment the children were receiving at these schools, who knew what else they were doing the children? Anne promised herself she'd keep working to bring it into the light.

* * *

By the third week of the term, everyone Anne and Gilbert shared any of their classes with knew that they were courting. Their Avonlea classmates were all fairly unsurprised, and several were rather amused. Moody particularly took every chance he could for a full week to rib Gilbert about how he'd called Anne cute the day he'd come back from Alberta. (Gilbert, naturally, gave as good as he got and gently prodded Moody about being only just more adept than Gilbert had been about approaching girls he liked, no matter how charming Ruby found it.)

There were those who were less than sanguine about their courtship, as well. Perhaps interestingly, Josie was Anne's second most stalwart defender (the first being Diana) when it came to Gilbert. Ever practical, she'd dryly inform anyone complaining or remarking upon their courtship that it had been obvious from the beginning, and that if you thought you could sway one from the other, you couldn't be more wrong than if you declared the sun rose in the west. Anne never quite mustered up the courage to ask if this was in return for the article, which had seen Josie's reputation restored at least somewhat among their classmates, but Josie was soon courting a young man who had first expressed interest in Anne, only to find he had rather a liking for Josie's sharpness while bringing out the best in her.

Anne and Gilbert worked tirelessly through their year spent at Queen's. By the end of it, they were, much to their amusement and to the mixed amusement and annoyance of their peers, top of their class and ready to move on. Each managed to obtain a scholarship to Redmond, where Gilbert would study medicine, and Anne, English, and the next years were spent in even further study and most often each other's quiet companionship. (Though, naturally, there were outings on weekends, holidays spent in Avonlea with their family and friends, a few boisterous soirees, and, by the time Anne was finished with her B.A., the locating of quite possibly every secluded nook in Kingsport.)

Though Josie had been entirely correct about nobody being able to sway either of them from the other, there were still those who tried, occasionally provoking an even more occasionally heated discussion. Should they become a friend? Should they keep their distance? It was rarely an enjoyable conversation, but they always came through it in the end, as they did with any of their arguments. After all, as Anne had predicted on the walk home the night they'd finally admitted their feelings, it wasn't always easy. There were days where things didn't go as planned, moments where they disagreed, evenings spent apart and miserable—but in every event, all roads led back to each other, bringing them closer together and making them stronger. It wasn't always immediate, and many times, it entailed a long conversation with each other, and every so often, it entailed the counsel of others first. 

* * *

It was a sunny Eastertime afternoon two years before Gilbert was set to finish his studies that saw Anne at Green Gables, working on the latest article in a series she was writing about the welfare of the children in the residential schools and her experience visiting when Gilbert came by to ask if she'd join him on a stroll. Anne grabbed her coat and hat and rushed to join him.

They'd chatted happily as they wandered, and, coming upon the spot where they'd kissed that magical night all those years ago, Anne remarked, "I thought I'd dreamed it all the morning after you kissed me. I pinched my wrist after you left, so the bruise was the only thing that told me it was real."

Gilbert laughed quietly. "You say I kissed you like you didn't kiss me back, and very enthusiastically, I might add."

"And _you_ say _that_ as though you didn't appreciate every second of it," Anne teased before leaning in for a gentle kiss, which Gilbert turned into a slightly longer and more urgent one.

Anne sighed with a smile as they parted. "Every day with you is like a dream," she told him in a voice just above a whisper.

Gilbert took both of her hands and kissed them. "I couldn't agree more."

There seemed to be something he wasn't saying, but Anne didn't press. They'd both gotten better about speaking about the things that needed to be spoken about; he'd tell her soon enough if she needed to know.

And indeed, as they approached Green Gables, Anne learned just what was behind the earlier intensely ardent gaze when Gilbert took her hands, pulled her close, and, though he didn't need to, begged Anne to marry him.

He would, of course, later dispute Anne's characterization of it as begging, but nobody would believe him, least of all Bash. "You _would_ beg her to marry you, and you'd be right in doing so," would be Bash's grinning barb. Gilbert would merely roll his eyes and inform everyone present that Anne couldn't exactly claim a coherent reply, having started to cry nearly immediately and then having proceeded to give Gilbert several _very_ thorough kisses and then looking incredibly confused when Gilbert, grinning wider than he ever had, told her she hadn't actually _said_ yes.

It was yet another imperfect new beginning in a lifetime full of them, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Well _that_ was sappy. I'm just trying to outdo myself every time now.
> 
> We have reached the end of yet another story! Hopefully this has been an enjoyable little journey into what might have been for you! Thank you for joining me on it! If you are so inspired, leave me your thoughts below!
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @js589 and on Twitter @js5899 (damn 6-char lower limit on usernames...) for the, like, one of you who hasn't found me. Y'all are quick and SO NICE T-T <3
> 
> 'Til next we meet! I've got a few in the hopper, including more of Covalent Bonds, coming soon!


End file.
